Hard Eight

Stephanie Plum 08:

HARD EIGHT

By Janet Evanovich

Fugitive Apprehension Agent Stephanie Plum has a big problem an her hands: Seven-year- old Annie Soder and her mother, Evelyn, have disappeared. Evelyn’s estranged husband, Steven, a shady owner of a seedy bar, is not at all happy. During the divorce proceedings, he and Evelyn signed a child custody bond, and Steven is demanding the money guaranteed by the bond to find Annie. The money was secured by a mortgage on Evelyn’s grandmother’s house, and the True Blue Bonds Bail Agency wants to take possession of the house. Finding a kidnapped child is not an assignment for a bounty hunter. But Evelyn’s grandmother lives next door to Stephanie’s parents, and Stephanie’s mother and grandmother are not about to see their neighbor lose her house because of the abduction. Even though Stephanie’s plate is full with miscreants who missed their court dates, including old nemesis and violent drunk Andy Bender and an elusive little old lady accused of grand theft auto, she can’t disappoint Grandma Mazur! So she follows the trail left by Annie and Evelyn—and finds a lot more than she bargained for. Steven is somehow linked with a very scary Eddie Abruzzi. Trenton cop and on-again, off-again fiance Joe Morelli and Stephanie’s mentor and tormentor, Ranger, warn Stephanie about Abruzzi, but it’s Abruzzi’s eyes and mannerisms that frighten Stephanie most. Stephanie needs Ranger’s savvy and expertise, and she’s willing to accept his help to find Annie even though it might mean getting too involved with Ranger.

Stephanie, Ranger, Lula (who’s not going to miss riding with Ranger), and Evelyn’s lawyer/Laundromat manager set out to find Annie. The search turns out to be a race among Stephanie’s posse, the True Blue Bonds’ agent, a Rangerette known as Jeanne Ellen Burrows, and the Abruzzi crew. Not to mention the fact that there’s a killer rabbit on the loose!

Strap on your helmet and get ready for the ride of your life. Hard Eight. The world of Stephanie Plum has never been wilder.

1

LATELY, I’VE BEEN spending a lot of time rolling on the ground with men who think a stiffy represents personal growth. The rolling around has nothing to do with my sex life. The rolling around is what happens when a bust goes crapola and there’s a last ditch effort to hog-tie a big, dumb bad guy possessing a congenitally defective frontal lobe. My name is Stephanie Plum, and I’m in the fugitive apprehension business… bond enforcement, to be exact, working for my cousin Vincent Plum. It wouldn’t be such a bad job except the direct result of bond enforcement is usually incarceration—and fugitives tend to not like this. Go figure. To encourage fugitive cooperation on the way back to the pokey I usually persuade the guys I capture to wear handcuffs and leg shackles. This works pretty good most of the time. And, if done right, cuts back on the rolling around on the ground stuff.

Unfortunately, today wasn’t most of the time. Martin Paulson, weighing in at 297

pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall, was arrested for credit card fraud and for being a genuinely obnoxious person. He failed to show for his court appearance last week, and this put Martin on my Most Wanted List. Since Martin is not too bright, he hadn’t been too hard to find. Martin had, in fact, been at home engaged in what he does best… stealing merchandise off the Internet. I’d managed to get Martin into cuffs and leg shackles and into my car. I’d even managed to drive Martin to the police station on North Clinton Avenue. Unfortunately, when I attempted to get Martin out of my car he tipped over and was now rolling around on his belly, trussed up like a Christmas goose, unable to right himself.

We were in the parking lot adjacent to the municipal building. The back door leading to the docket lieutenant was less than fifty feet away. I could call for help, but I’d be the brunt of cop humor for days. I could unlock the cuffs or ankle shackles, but I didn’t trust Paulson. He was royally pissed off, red-faced and swearing, making obscene threats and horrifying animal sounds.

I was standing there, watching Paulson struggle, wondering what the hell I was going to do, because anything short of a forklift wasn’t going to get Paulson up off the pavement. And just then, Joe Juniak pulled into the lot. Juniak is a former police chief and is now mayor of Trenton. He’s a bunch of years older than me and about a foot taller. Juniak’s second cousin, Ziggy, is married to my cousin-in-law Gloria Jean. So we’re sort of family… in a remote way.

The driver’s side window slid down, and Juniak grinned at me, cutting his eyes to Paulson. “Is he yours?”

“Yep.”